


Hard to Look After

by randi2204



Series: Honeymoon Trail [7]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan's busy just trying to keep Ezra alive, but he's got to take care of Chris, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard to Look After

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** They belong to MGM, Mirisch and Trilogy, not to me.

Soon as Vin sent Chris stumbling back into the hotel room, Nathan knew what he had to do.  Ezra wasn’t bleeding much now, but that hole in his chest… He’d seen men die, back in the war, even if the surgeon was able to get the bullet out, heaving and gasping like fish out of water, not able to get enough air.  Just like Ezra was now.

 

Vin knew without him saying a word where he was going, gave him a nod, telling him silently that it was Nathan’s call what to do.  _Always can count on Vin,_ he thought, wondering if Chris ever felt this same twinge of gratitude for Vin’s presence.

 

So he fetched the doctor from the jail after the man was done treating that viper, hoping against hope for some kind of cure, some kind of knowledge that the doctor knew but _he_ didn’t. 

 

The doctor seemed taken aback when he saw Ezra on the bed, fiddled with his bag like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.  “Heard that woman – Miz Gaines – shot a man’s wife, not another man.”

 

“She’s crazy,” Vin offered from where he slouched against the wall, arms crossed. “Killed a man’s family a few years ago, wife and child.”

 

The doctor shook his head, muttering, and Nathan urged Chris out of the chair to let the doctor sit close, since it didn’t look like he was going to move out of it on his own.  Chris suddenly appeared… older, just from sitting in this too-warm room while Ezra fought to breathe, and he wouldn’t turn away from watching Ezra.

 

 _Like if he keeps lookin’, Ezra won’t…_ Nathan cut off that thought quick.  _No, he’s gonna get better.  Got a proper doctor now, he’ll do somethin’…_

 

But then the doctor straightened up from listening with his stethoscope and shook his head, face grave.  “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do.”

 

And damn, he thought _sure_ he’d have two patients at that, the way Chris went so dead white.  He was glad he was still standing so close to Chris, able to catch him if he started to crumple.  Vin was at Chris’s other side in an instant, hand on his shoulder, like he was afraid of the same thing.

 

Swallowing, Nathan stepped away from Chris.  “What do you mean, not much you can do?” he demanded.  “You’re a doctor, ain’t you?”

 

The doctor huffed at him and tucked his stethoscope back into his bag.  “Yes, I _am_ a doctor, but that doesn’t mean I’m able to heal with a touch as our Savior did.  This man will be lucky if he survives the night.”

 

Behind him, he heard someone suck in a breath at the harsh words.

 

At the door, the doctor paused.  “If you need me, my surgery is on Third Street,” he said, his tone not quite as sharp.  “It’s next door to the Murphy boarding house.  But it looks like you’re already doing everything I would suggest.”

 

Nathan knew a peace offering when he heard one. “Thank you,” he replied, and meant it.  But it was one hell of a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that there wasn’t anything even a doctor could do with all his learning.

 

The doctor nodded, shut the door behind himself as he left.

 

No more than a few moments later, they heard a hesitant knock.  Scowling, Vin stalked over to the door and jerked it open.  “What?”

 

The clerk that they’d seen at the desk stood there, hand still raised to rap on the door again.  He lowered it, swallowing.   “Is… uh, is Mister Larabee…” 




 

“Mister Larabee is busy,” Vin snapped.  “What do you want?”

 

Nathan turned back to Ezra and checked under the bandage, just to make sure that the bleeding had stopped.  He knew it had, knew this was nothing but an excuse to do _something_ , even if it wasn’t anything really useful.

 

The slam of the door made him straighten in a hurry, his hand reaching for his gun before he remembered where he was.  Vin moved away from the door, frown carved deep in his face, hands clenched into fists.  “Son of a bitch,” Vin muttered, eyes on Ezra’s unconscious form.

 

Chris had sunk down onto the bed like he couldn’t stand any more.  Now he turned his head slightly toward Vin, just enough to show he was giving Vin his attention, but he didn’t really look away from Ezra either.  “What’d he want, Vin?”

 

Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, relief surging through him.  _‘Least Chris is comin’ around,_ he thought, though he wasn’t quite sure just _what_ he was coming around _from_.  All he knew was _anything_ was better than the pale face and haunted eyes that had made him send Chris out into the hall in the first place, half-afraid he was going to pass out.

 

Vin cursed again, under his breath this time.  “Said we had to get out.  The owner don’t want anyone dyin’ in here.” He snorted.  “Must be bad for business.”  Then he glanced around, mouth tight, and Nathan followed his gaze.  Blood had spattered across the wallpaper, smeared where Ella had slumped against it.  Blood had puddled under Ezra and soaked into the carpet, turning brown as it dried.  Two bullet holes in the wall, one from Chris’s gun, one from Ezra’s.

 

One bullet hole in Ezra.

 

“Said the owner wants you to pay for any damages, too,” Vin finished, his voice real quiet.

 

Chris swallowed heavily, and his gaze returned to Ezra.  “Yeah,” he replied, “reckon he would.”  His jaw worked, and after another moment, he said, “Nathan…”

 

“Don’t think we should move him, Chris,” he said, low and forceful. “He’s been hurt bad… barely hangin’ on as it is.”

 

Chris flinched, and his hand tightened into a fist near Ezra’s where it lay on the sheets.  “I know,” he said thickly.

 

“If we don’t go,” Vin said, “reckon the owner’ll throw us all in jail.  Don’t guess any of us need that.”  _‘Specially with Ella there,_ he didn’t say, but Nathan heard it anyway.  Just the thought of being in the same place with that woman, never able to get away, got his dander up a little more.

 

Chris took a breath and let it out slow.  “Guess that settles it.  Better find another place to stay until…” He broke off, voice hitching.

 

Vin was already on his way out the door. “Guess I know where there’s a boardin’ house.  I’ll see if I can get us a room there.”

 

Chris nodded, then his gaze wandered away from Ezra to Nathan, and Nathan couldn’t stand the pleading look on his face; he had to turn away, his throat tight.  Without a word, he started getting Ezra ready to move, stripping away the remnants of the dress and making sure the bandage was snug enough.

 

It was full dark by the time they’d gotten settled in the boarding house the doctor had mentioned.  Ezra hadn’t woken up, hadn’t even had the breath to moan when they’d picked up the stretcher to move him, hadn’t twitched an eyelid the entire jolting trip to the boarding house.

 

Nathan considered that, his heart sinking even more.  The doctor had spoken harshly, but he had knowledge – _more than I do_ –and what he’d said fit with everything Nathan had seen during the War.

 

He didn’t like thinking about his friends in terms of the War, not with all the dead and dying he’d seen.

 

Hell, there weren’t no part of this he liked.  He stared at Ezra, still unconscious, covered in a sheen of sweat and fighting for every gasping breath.  He’d never seen Ezra’s face so pale, never dreamed that he’d dread the sound of silence so deep around him, or miss that slow drawl that sometimes still took him back to Mister Jackson’s plantation.

 

He dipped a bit of cloth in the basin, wiped it over Ezra’s face, then soaked it again, trying to cool down the fever he could feel starting.  “Y’all are so damn hard to look after,” he muttered.  “If it ain’t one of ya, it’s another.  I’m tellin’ ya, it’s enough to…” His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat, but said nothing more.  _After all,_ he thought, _won’t do a lick of good tellin’ him that Chris is worryin’ himself to nothin’ over him._

 

He’d seen it before, a couple of times when one of them had gotten hurt – Chris sometimes hovered over his shoulder until it was clear that whoever it was that’d gotten injured was going to recover – but he couldn’t recall seeing Chris like _this_ before.

 

Running his damp cloth over Ezra’s neck and chest, Nathan reflected on that.  _Could just be because that crazy woman’s the one shot Ezra,_ he thought, and swiped carefully around the bandage.  _But goin’ after her like they did… that was Ezra’s plan to begin with._   “Ya gotta be more careful,” he told Ezra.  “Maybe this’ll teach ya – damnfool plans like this one are like to get ya…” Suddenly he realized the words coming out of his mouth and stopped, shocked.  _God, what’m I doin’?_   “Sorry, Ezra,” he said very softly, and gently wiped away the sweat from Ezra’s face.  “Just…” He sighed.  _Can’t very well tell him I’m worried he might…_   “Just want you to get better.”

 

It was late when Chris came in.  Nathan jumped a little as the door opened, having been listening hard to Ezra’s breathing and praying it would continue, even as tortured as it sounded. 

 

“He woke up yet?” Chris asked, voice low.

 

Nathan shook his head.  “No,” he replied, “not yet.”  He watched Chris’s shoulders slump and bit his lip to hold back the words he just _couldn’t_ say, that he wasn’t sure if Ezra would ever wake up.

 

Instead, he just watched as Chris pulled another chair up close by the bed and settled into it, slow, ginger, just like Nathan’s daddy had done when he complained of his joints paining him. 

 

After a couple of hours, Nathan asked, “Think maybe you oughtta go back to bed?”

 

“No,” was all Chris said in response.

 

Shaking his head, Nathan turned the lamp down a little, so it was just a faint glow.  _Maybe he’ll sleep if he gets tired enough…_

 

He couldn’t say he slept himself, not really; he dozed a bit only to wake with a jerk, convinced that Ezra’s breathing had changed, that he’d stopped… but no, those harsh gasping sounds went on and on, painful to his ear and his heart.

 

Vin eased the door open just as dawn was peeking through the curtained window.  “Reckoned I’d find you here,” he said to Chris, then turned to Nathan.  “You want me to stay with Ezra so you can get somethin’ to eat?”

 

“I’ll go when you get back, maybe catch a little sleep.” He stretched his back, then leaned over Ezra to check his fever.  Behind him, he heard as Vin coaxed Chris to his feet and out the door.  Ezra was still warm, but not as feverish as he had been the night before, so Nathan tucked the quilt snug around him.

 

When Chris and Vin returned, there was enough tension between them to make the air seem thick.  Vin’s brows were drawn close in a heavy scowl, and Chris seemed determined to ignore them both as he sat down by Ezra again.  Nathan looked from one to the other, frowning before realizing that Chris was missing something.  “Chris,” he asked slowly, “where’s your gun belt?”

 

“Sheriff took it,” Chris replied with a lack of feeling that made Nathan study him real close.

 

“That witch’s been tellin’ her side of the story,” Vin growled. “Sayin’ Chris is a danger, that he shot her without cause.”

 

“Without cause?” Nathan repeated, voice rising.  “What in the _hell_ …”

 

“Gonna go talk to him some more,” Vin said.  “Make sure he keeps her in that jail.”  He didn’t quite slam the door when he left.

 

Nathan stared at the door, then at Chris, hunkered down in his chair, eyes on Ezra like he was somehow making him take each painful wheezing breath, at Ezra, who was still alive, if barely.  _Gotta do something,_ he thought.  _Can’t let this go on._

 

When Vin returned, angry and unsatisfied, Nathan hurried on down to the telegraph station, wired home.  The realization he’d had in the hotel room when Chris had made that choked sound behind him kept running through his head.  _I can’t heal ‘em both._  

 

Hell, he wasn’t even sure he wouldn’t wake in the night and discover Ezra’d just… slipped away, too tired to fight anymore.

 

And he was a little scared what Chris would do if that happened.

 

For all that he was half-hoping that Josiah would come, Nathan was nothing but relieved when Vin told him that Buck was there, was talking to the sheriff.  Buck being there was the only reason he’d been able to pry Chris away from Ezra’s bedside.  And Chris needed the change; he looked almost as pale as Ezra, almost as worn.

 

Nathan couldn’t ever remember him looking so… defeated, not even right after he’d been wounded in the gunfight at Ella’s.

 

For a few minutes after Buck had gone inside, he and Chris sat in silence on the porch of the boarding house, as the day darkened into twilight.  Chris’s attention was fixed in the direction of the jail, and he stared down the street with shadowed eyes, like he could see Ella Gaines in her cell laughing at them all.

 

Made him nervous as all hell.  More than once, Nathan caught his hand inching toward his side, where his own holster rode.

 

When Vin slid onto the seat next to Chris where Buck had sat earlier, Nathan started.  “Is somethin’ wrong?” he blurted out, because he couldn’t think of another reason for Vin’s sudden presence, because it had become second nature in just the past couple days.

 

Next to him, he felt Chris go taut as a bowstring.

 

But Vin slouched into the seat, hands clasped over his belly, making himself right at home.  “Naw,” he said, just like he weren’t concerned at all.  “Just seemed like Bucklin wanted ta talk ta Ezra.  Figgered I’d get some air, leave ‘em alone for a bit, let him get it off his chest.” 

 

Nathan nodded slowly, huffing out a breath in relief.  “Reckon I’ll go up in a couple minutes, make sure Buck ain’t wearin’ him out.”  _Like we’re home and Ezra’s really awake,_ he thought, staring down at his hands helplessly, _and Buck’s keepin’ him from gettin’ some rest, not like he ain’t really woken up since he was shot._

 

Chris let out a breath, tension easing in him some, but not enough.

 

After those few promised minutes, Nathan pushed himself to his feet, put a hand on Chris’s shoulder to keep him from doing the same.  “Don’t wanna see you upstairs ‘till you’ve gotten somethin’ to eat,” he said sternly.  “Be even better if you got a night’s sleep…”

 

Chris shook his head, and didn’t bother to say what Nathan already knew, that he couldn’t sleep, not for anything more than a few minutes at a time.

 

He frowned, but nodded.  “Fine.  Vin, you make sure he eats somethin’.  Don’t need to be takin’ care of anyone else.” He didn’t wait for Vin’s acknowledgement.

 

Once upstairs, he paused outside Ezra’s room.  He could hear Buck’s voice, but couldn’t quite make out the words, though the door was open. Quiet as he could, he eased closer, until the sounds became words.

 

“… in a right state, Ezra.” Buck’s warm voice was low, but Nathan could still hear him.  “Eatin’ himself alive with guilt ‘cause that woman shot you.”  Then he leaned forward, his voice growing even softer, so that Nathan had to strain to make out the words over Ezra’s harsh breaths.  “I don’t know what happened on this trip of yours.  Reckon I don’t need to.  But Chris needs you to wake up.  Hell, we all do… but Chris most of all.  C’mon, Ezra.”

 

Nathan swallowed.  Whatever had happened at the jail, whatever Buck had seen and heard in Chris that had made his face go so still… Suddenly he knew what it was, too, knew what he’d been seeing these past days.   He tapped on the door.  “Buck.”

 

Buck straightened a little and looked over at Nathan, blue eyes solemn.  His hand rested on Ezra’s shoulder.  “Nathan,” he said, voice still pitched quiet.  “Want me to take care of Chris for a bit?”

 

There it was – the whole reason he’d sent that wire home, and Buck knew it.  Oh, there were still all the things that he and Josiah and Ezra had sorted through from that horrible room in Ella’s house, but the real reason was Chris.  His throat closed up and he could only nod.

 

“Hard to take care of Chris when he don’t want to be taken care of.”  But Buck nodded in return, squeezed Ezra’s shoulder gently.  “Best you think on what I said, Ezra,” he murmured, like Ezra was just plain being _difficult_ by not waking up.  Then he settled his hat, clapped Nathan on the shoulder as he left.

 

Nathan checked Ezra’s fever almost without thinking about it, but it was a long while before he could speak.  “Buck’s right, Ezra,” he said at last, but then couldn’t think of anything else to say.

 

Chris didn’t even bother pretending he’d gone back to the room he was supposed to be sleeping in; he snuck in almost as soon as he and Vin had returned from dinner.  Nathan glowered at him, but for all the notice that Chris took, he might as well have been glaring at a stone.

 

After he turned down the lamp and sat in what had become _his_ chair, exhaustion caught up with him, settled over him like a blanket.  For a while, he tried to keep himself awake by naming all the bones in a hand – _semilunar, pyramidal, trapezius… no,_ trapezium – but even that couldn’t keep him from nodding off.

 

He half-woke once during the night, but fell back to sleep again almost immediately.

 

Nathan woke slowly.  He was still exhausted, but the chair wasn’t comfortable – felt like he had a crick in his neck that wouldn’t ever go away, he’d been sleeping in this old chair so much – and the light through the drawn curtains told him it was past time to get up anyway.

 

He turned toward the bed and just froze, staring.

 

Sometime during the night, Chris had fallen asleep, tilted forward in a way that not only looked awkward but painful as hell, so that his head was pillowed on his folded arms, almost brushing Ezra’s side.  Just for a moment, the only thought Nathan had was that Ezra had died in the night while he was sleeping, and Chris…

 

Then he realized Ezra was breathing, _still breathing_ , and it even sounded a little easier; not much, but just a little less like he was fighting for every breath.

 

Ezra’s hand rested on Chris’s head, long fingers twined in his dirty blond hair.

 

Nathan slumped back into his chair, grinning wide enough to make his face hurt, and damn if there weren’t tears running down his cheeks, and a tightness and joy in his chest that made him want to shout.

 

 _He’s gettin’ better,_ he thought, wiping his cheeks.  _Ain’t there yet, but he’s gonna get better._

 

Still had a whole lot of bad to get through and no mistake, but at least this was _something_ good.  Something that said that there was still _hope_ , and hope was a good thing and better than some; better even than knowing who held what cards in a game of poker.

 

 _Wonder what Ezra’d have to say to that?_ Nathan asked himself, and chuckled as he slipped out of the room.

 

***

September 1, 2012

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill a [prompt](http://mag7daybook.dreamwidth.org/215303.html?thread=2059527#cmt2059527) JoJo left on [mag7daybook](http://mag7daybook.dreamwidth.org). These boys really are damn hard to look after. :-)


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